


Give

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Biting, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Rough Sex, Safeword Use, Spanking, Sparring, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: "Give." The crack of Damian's voice was like a whip, right next to Tim's ear, and God that did things it shouldn't have.Tim's hands shot up, one of them right into Damian's hair, twisting, pulling, the other slipping between glove and gauntlet, fingers pressing right against his wrist bone, threatening the break he was more than capable of. He pushed hard, but not quite hard enough to actually deal such damage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been stuck in my head for a while now that Tim would want to be choked during sex and that maybe - just maybe - getting slapped around a lot gets him a bit riled up.  
> Inspiration: the song below, [this gif set](http://cadkitten.tumblr.com/post/145231384948), and [this](http://cadkitten.tumblr.com/post/105754914488/bichotomy-true-inked-dom-guchichan-itll).  
> Beta Readers: sakura_ame  
> Song[s]: "Castle" by Halsey

_Sometimes love feels good. Sometimes it's just another way to bleed._

_-Laurell K. Hamilton_

The strike and slap of Tim's staff against the practice beams echoed through the cave. Every hit came down hard, harder than Tim would have allowed it to on an actual enemy. Sometimes it felt _good_ to just let go, to use all of the power he had stored up in his muscles and strike out with _intent_ to harm. There was a rush to it, a certain flare of heat in his body and the gratifying thrum of the wooden staff in his hand when it connected.

 _One. Two. Three._ Tim ducked and dodged an imaginary attacker, rolling across the mat and coming up into a crouch, striking out in quick succession. _Four. Five. Six. Seven._ The last one didn't go down in his mind and he let out a snarl, jabbing upwards and leaping into a tumble, coming up and whirling around, lashing out and-

He cut his power back at the last possible second, stilling the staff maybe a half inch from Damian's raised arm. Granted, he had his gauntlet on and it wouldn't have been the _end_ of the world if he'd landed it, but going full-power on _Robin_ wasn't the best idea in the world, especially given whose turf he was currently standing within.

Damian's forearm pressed against the staff, forcing Tim to lower it as he stepped up onto the mat completely. "Aggression... is not always the key."

Tim let a breath whoosh out of him, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he straightened up from the half-crouch he'd been in. "Sometimes it feels good to let the full potential of a blow land." 

There, that was a glimmer in Damian's eyes, the ghost of a smile that could have been on his lips. "Who pissed in," there was a fractional pause, not quite long enough for most to catch it, but enough Tim _did_ , "your Cheerios?"

"Heh," Tim let the little sound out with the same amount of ire such a sound _truly_ deserved. "Every criminal in Gotham. Every rapist and every murderer who thinks they can get away with it. Every parent who cares just a little too _sparingly_ for the loss of their child to report it." He let out a half snarl and whirled to strike _hard_ at one of the practice posts.

The blow hit hard enough his arm shuddered with the impact, hard enough the crack was like a gunshot in the otherwise still cave. 

Two beeps and the posts retracted into the floor, leaving the mats barren save for the pair of them. Tim turned his head, watching Damian as he picked up two of Dick's practice escrima, hefting the sticks to get their weight and balance, and then silently fell into fight-stance - just as flashy as Dick had _ever_ been about it. Tim _almost_ wanted to laugh. Instead, he shifted his own stance, took a deep breath, and told his body to rein in all of his anger, focus on _training_ instead.

Wordlessly, they began to move, Damian playing block for Tim's hits, countering his blows, but not trying to make any of his own. The clack of wood against gauntlet came quite a few times, the sound considerably less powerful than Tim _had_ been demonstrating he was capable of.

Damian abruptly turned the tables on him and Tim fought it off, a wave of excitement welling up within him as he had to counter and block, as he dodged attack after attack. He came up, striking out harder than he intended to and had to pull it full-stop at the last possible second. One escrima slammed into his staff and the other shoved right up under his throat, _touching_ but not actually harming. 

Damian's eyes glittered faintly in the dim lighting from above, a playful smirk dancing on his lips that Tim didn't think he'd _ever_ seen there. "Did I _ask_ you to pull your strikes, Drake?"

It had been _years_ since Damian had forcefully addressed him like that, since he'd avoided calling Tim by his first name or at least his superhero name. It sent the barest hint of a shiver down his spine and he wet his lips, easing back with his arms open wide, showing his acquiescence of who had won this round. "No."

"Then _don't_." Damian took a step back, readying himself again, rolling his neck on his shoulders and giving Tim a languid sort of look. "One round, no pulling anything, full-power unless it's to an exposed area."

Tim's heart slammed hard in his chest and he took in a shaky breath before giving a single nod. He hissed a breath in through his teeth and sank into starting stance, cocking his head to tell Damian to come at him.

The seconds ticked by before Damian finally moved and when he did, Tim had to admit a certain amount of _shock_ as to how fast he was. The first blow came down on him just for that little amount of surprise, the sting of it across his side telling him Damian really wasn't holding back. With a snarl, he launched himself into it, playing offensive for a while until he found the perfect shot, _slammed_ his staff across Damian's shoulders, heard the gratifying _smack_ of it echo.

"About damn _time_." Damian threw the words at him as if they were weapons of their own, pointed and drilling home with an accuracy he hadn't been expecting. A _goad_ and one set right to temperature _Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne_. He could have laughed at how absurd it was that such words could have boiled his blood if he hadn't been so busy finding a way to slam another strike down on Damian for it.

One block with his bracer, the sharp slap of escrima against the armor sending a shockwave of numbness behind it, and he realized Damian's _full_ potential hadn't been shown in years out on the field. He truly had learned to pull it back, to make the conscious decision _not_ to harm.

He watched for his opening, ducking and weaving in the meantime, finally finding the barest hint of an opening and striking _full force_. The staff came up right across one of Damian's wrists, his grip on the escrima faltering completely, stick dropping to the floor from his dominant hand. Tim tracked the way Damian's hand flexed, knew it was tingling with the blow, and he felt a shudder of _pleasure_ slide through him.

Now that was _wrong_ and he damn well knew it. He pulled a breath in from between his teeth, dodged a few near-misses and - perhaps - got a little too arrogant. It wasn't even a count of five before Damian had him down on the mat, flat on his stomach, escrima pulled tight against his windpipe, actively _choking_.

Two things happened at nearly the same moment: Tim's body _reacted_ with both instinct and _pleasure_. His elbow came up in Damian's gut, other hand shoving his torso up to jam him right up against Damian's chest as he took in a good gulp of air. The elbow didn’t dissuade Damian at all and Tim's heart slammed against his chest. 

"Give." The crack of Damian's voice was like a whip, right next to Tim's ear, and _God_ that did things it shouldn't have.

Tim's hands shot up, one of them right into Damian's hair, twisting, _pulling_ , the other slipping between glove and gauntlet, fingers pressing right against his wrist bone, threatening the break he was more than capable of. He pushed _hard_ , but not quite hard enough to actually deal such damage. 

Damian released with one hand, Tim ripped his head forward as he changed their positions, one leg coming up and back to get Damian's hip, shoving him onto his back, Tim landing _hard_ on his lap. He thanked every shooting star he'd ever seen that he was facing _away_ from Damian in that moment. His lips parted and he almost didn't catch the moan that wanted out from having his ass pressed right up against Damian's-

He cut the thought off as he spun around, got hold of the dropped escrima and brought it down to _touch_ Damian's forehead, proof positive of a murder he could have very well committed with blunt force trauma.

Damian stared up at him, that same glitter in his eyes, and Tim sat there, _panting_ , doing his damn best not to draw attention to _anything_ that was happening down below.

Pushing himself up so that he was crouched over Damian, he whispered out, "Give..."

Damian tapped the mat once, a rush of breath leaving him, and Tim backed off, standing and offering his hand. Their fingers weaved together and Tim tugged Damian up off the floor. 

"You play dirty."

Tim clucked his tongue. "You have _no_ idea." He turned away, going to put the staff and escrima he was holding back. He caught the one Damian threw out of instinct alone, not even flinching as it caught in his fist. He slipped it into the holder and turned, letting more of his own personal _truth_ show in his gaze than he should have. 

He'd known Damian for _years_ , had watched him grow up, had probably been watched as _he_ grew up right alongside him. There had been rough spots, had been patches where they _hated_ one another. But the past few years had been nothing like that at all. They'd worked in some absurdly perfect tandem the past few times they'd hit the streets together and Tim hadn't _missed_ that Damian had grown up just as much as he had, though the peculiar slap in the face of Damian's first degree - of which Tim was sure would be many - told him just how much.

Tim let his tongue glide over his bottom teeth, lips parted just enough to show the action. It was _intentional_ , testing in a way that could be written off. All the same, he watched Damian like a hawk, _caught_ the little intake of breath before it regulated, and he felt the triumph rise inside of him. 

Adrenaline still hummed in his veins and he rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck, and stepped back onto the mats. "Hand-to-hand." He let the words come out as a breathy whisper and he swore he heard the groan Damian didn't make on the air. He turned and pressed his palms together, bending slightly at the waist and waiting. Damian did the same and they both righted themselves and took three steps back before they launched forward and collided with one another. 

There was no offensive here, no tactical advantage to waiting out the opponent. This wasn't that sort of test of skill. Tim blocked a fist aimed for his face, slid Damian's blow down his arm until it rolled off his elbow and turned out of it, ducked under the grab he was supposed to fall right into. His leg swept out and Damian neatly jumped over it, came in for a blow to the back of his knee, which he rolled away from. He came up behind Damian, reached _behind_ himself and got a handful of the back of his suit, surprised because he was used to _cape_ here, though neither one of them were wearing theirs, so he supposed that mattered to some degree. It meant his focus was slipping, that he'd missed crucial... _details_. 

The blow that landed on his bicep was unforgiveable. He never should have let it land, and he slammed his mind back into the present, whirled on Damian, force bringing Damian sliding along with him due to the hold on his suit, and helped him collide fist with Damian's midsection. He doubled over just the slightest and Tim _unleashed_ on him: blow after blow, kick, punch, and a backhand to the face that Damian _should_ have been able to block. A trickle of blood slid from Damian's mouth - his teeth had cut against his lip, Tim was sure - and Tim let out a warning _growl_ as he used the last bit of force he was willing to give to Damian this go to slam his foot into his chest, crash him down to the mat. He landed on him, one knee against his torso, his hand on Damian's throat, his other arm reeled back, clearly in line to give him the punch of his life, and Damian tapped the mat, hissed out, "I give."

Heart pounding, Tim let his fingers uncurl. He stared down at Damian, at the trickle of blood coming from the corner of his lip, at the way his mouth was parted to obtain his air, at the _red_ in his cheek from Tim's strike. Arousal shot through him and Tim didn't stop the _curse_ that rose to his own lips.

Reaching down, he swiped away the blood from Damian's chin, wiped it on his own pant leg, and let his hand trail to Damian's shoulder instead of his throat. Their eyes were locked, _holding_ , and Tim could _feel_ the heat from it, prayed he wasn't reading into something that wasn't there. Sliding his leg over Damian's torso, he settled astride his chest, bringing his thighs in to _press_ and he watched something flare in Damian's gaze.

Tim gave a slow drag of his tongue over his own lip, watching the way Damian tracked it, and he didn't stop the breath of, "Holy _shit_ ," that slipped free. One smooth movement and he was hunched over Damian, his hand on his jaw, fingers digging in but not quite _holding_. Damian could free himself if he wanted to. The first press of his mouth against Damian's own was - perhaps - the most exhilarating kiss he'd ever been a part of. His heart felt like it was going to slam right out of his chest and his air stuck in his throat as he _took_ what he wanted. 

Damian's hand was in his hair before Tim could so much as swipe his tongue over Damian's velvet-soft lips, his tongue against Tim's before he could breathe. Tim gave a slow slide of his tongue against Damian's, let it speak _for_ him, let it tell the story of this quickly blossoming lust between them. 

Damian's hand covered Tim's wrist, tugged and _guided_ until Tim's hand was pressed against his windpipe, until the heel of his hand was _pressing_. Tim _moaned_ , utterly unable to hold it back. He slid down until he could roll his hips against Damian's own, felt the press of warmth against his hip that could only mean one thing. 

Tim drew back just enough to speak, just enough to whisper out the words he needed. "Choke me." It was brazen, brash to the point of laughable, but it _worked_ and Tim couldn't argue results. Damian's hand closed around his throat with a power that Tim hadn't expected him to use and his own fingers clenched reflexively around Damian's neck. 

The jerk of Damian's hips against him told a story Tim couldn't help but thoroughly enjoy. He pressed down into Damian's hold, cutting off his air completely, the heady rush of being unable to breathe slamming right to his cock and he was _certain_ he was harder than he'd ever been before. 

Heedless of consequence, Tim curled his legs under Damian's, used them as leverage as he _rocked_ , grinding them against one another in a frantic bid to cum, just like this. 

He let their lips part, _felt_ the saliva that didn't quite separate between them until he sat completely back, _knew_ he had to breathe or he'd pass out.

Damian let him go as Tim brought both hands up toward his wrist, kept his hand _close_ but not on him. Tim grasped his wrist in both hands, guided it down over his chest and then _further_ , bringing it down to rest over his aching arousal, rocked up into it as they stared at one another. 

"I want to fuck you."

The words sent a shockwave through Tim's body, forced a ragged moan from his lips, a desperate jerk of his hips to shove his cock against Damian's hand. "I want you to."

Tim was on his back before he could so much as blink. Triggers on his suit were released quickly and when Damian stood and offered his hand, his utility belt fell away as he stood. He was slammed hard against Damian's chest and his hands went automatically to Damian's belt, fingers finding the three disarm points and the clasp to release. The belt hit the floor with a thud and he didn't stop himself from grabbing a double handful of Damian's ass and _squeezing_ , pressing him up against him as he gave a hard _thrust_ , feeling the shocked little pulse of pre-cum soaking into his jock.

As much as he wanted to fuck _right here_ , he knew it wasn't possible, wasn't _practical_ or even advisable given the lack of certain supplies. He let his hand slid down to Damian's wrist, pushed their palms together, and turned, walking with him to the stairs. 

It felt like both a record time and an eternity before they were in Damian's room. Tim wasn't sure what he'd expected from it, but it certainly hadn't been _this_. His violin in the corner, a half-finished painting just out of the streak of sunlight coming in the window, a bed that was anything but neatly made and - of all things - a dirty novel Tim knew _by name_ neatly bookmarked about a third of the way through on Damian's nightstand. He would have laughed if it hadn't been for how oddly arousing it was that Damian was _normal_ somewhere under all of the rest of this.

"There's porn on my hard drive... in case you were mulling over that thought in your pretty little head." Damian's voice was _tease_ , his breath hot against Tim's ear as he stepped up behind him, took advantage of his slightly taller height to send a thrill through Tim's body. God how the years had been kind to Damian....

Tim reached behind himself, pushed a hand into Damian's hair and held on as he rubbed himself back against him, letting his gaze fall on the bed. "Good... to know." He let out a broken groan, tipping his head back to rest on Damian's shoulder. "When you _fuck_ me... do it _hard_."

Damian's teeth grazed his earlobe and his tongue teased the spot just behind his ear, flicking there before he _shoved_ Tim face-first on the bed, a sneer on his lips. "You think I would not?"

Tim _moaned_. There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to get out of this without Damian knowing a hell of a lot about his _tastes_ , that was for certain. He started to drag himself up onto the bed, but Damian's legs pinned his own in place. The drawer to his left slid open and a small leather pouch landed next to Tim's hip on the bed. "What do you say if you want me to stop?" His hands came to Tim's hips, slid _up_ over his sides and then to his arm bands, releasing them at the same time.

"I give." Nothing in the world could have stopped Tim from _those_ being the words right then.

"If you cannot speak?" As if to demonstrate the point, Damian's hand was abruptly on his throat, pressing, _threatening_ , but not actually choking. 

Tim's hand reflexively went to Damian's wrist and he panted _hard_ at the idea of what might happen. He tapped twice and Damian released him. Tim _whined_ and he didn't care that he sounded _pathetic_ right then.

"I choose to use the same signals." Damian dipped his head down, slicked his tongue over the spot behind Tim's ear again, a dark chuckle swelling up from his throat. "If you think I'm not looking for you to fight back, you're _wrong_ , Drake."

Tim shuddered hard at the name and Damian's lips formed an old little sound, one Tim hadn't heard in years. "-tt-, look at you, _quivering_ in my grasp." Damian's hands were abruptly there, unfastening his suit and dragging it down his body, pooling it at his hips, his hands pressing up and over his abdomen and chest. He'd rid himself of one of his gauntlets at some point, the other still firmly there and Tim _hissed_ at the contrast.

Damian's hips jerked hard against Tim's ass and Tim gasped, bucking back against it. "Tell me what you want. One more time, I want to _hear_ it."

Tim let himself fall down against the bed again as Damian let go of everything but his hips. He felt the scrape of gloved fingertips and the gentle swipe of a bare hand. The difference left him _wanting_ like he hadn't in a long, long time. He bucked and whined and when he opened his mouth, nothing could have stopped all the words from pouring out. "I want to feel _good_. I want to be fucked and I want to _cum_."

"Is that _all_?" Damian's laugh was _cruel_ and Tim enjoyed that far more than he should have.

"Choke me... _hurt_ me."

"That's more like it." Damian's hands jerked Tim's suit down to his thighs, left it there as he grabbed Tim's ass, spread him wide and dropped down behind him. Two flat licks of his tongue and then the flicker of it against his hole left him gasping, shaking against the onslaught of sensation.

Tim clawed at the bedspread, arched his back, and _pushed_ back, knowing it'd usually be unreasonable, but knowing that here he was welcome to do what his body told him to instead of holding it back in some fashion of _nicety_. 

Damian turned his head, _bit_ at Tim's ass cheek, and then he was up, his gloved hand smacking hard against his ass, gripping so hard Tim cried out. 

Something rustled and Tim took note that the bag was gone from the bed though he hadn't seen Damian pick it up. He was getting better at the sleight of hand thing, too. It landed beside him again and cool, slick fingers pushed against his hole, two slipping in easily enough. His body spasmed around the invasion and he sucked in a breath as Damian crooked them _right_ up into his prostate. There was no searching, no trying to find it, it was _precise_ , just like any other nerve strike Damian had ever administered, and Tim shouldn't have been surprised, but he _was_.

He crooned, hips rocking as Damian massaged it, pads of his fingers pressing and rubbing. Tim could feel his balls drawing up already, _knew_ Damian's aim in the exact moment before it happened. Damian's gloved hand closed around his throat and _clamped_. Surprise still slammed into Tim's body and he clenched down hard around Damian's fingers just as he began to _thrust_ them; sharp little jabs right into his prostate, and Tim would have nearly howled with pleasure if it hadn't been for his complete inability to do anything but make a strangled gurgle under the pressure of the gloved hand at his neck.

The pressure became unbearable in both directions; his prostate abused and his neck screaming that he would bruise like this. Black burst at the edges of his vision and Tim's hand clenched hard around Damian's wrist. Not... _yet_. He shook _hard_ , his entire body shuddering with it, hands shaking, thighs quaking in a way he hadn't ever experienced, and then his orgasm hit him like a freight train. One final jab to his prostate and he was spurting across the bed sheets, frantically bucking against Damian's body, shoving _toward_ his hand, the blackness narrowing in on him, and-

Just like that, Damian eased up on his neck, kept it at half of what it had been, gave him time to get _used_ to oxygen again, and the fingers were gone from inside of him. 

His hands hit the bed, barely holding him up as he shivered a good half dozen times. The gloved hand rubbed down over his chest and Tim _moaned_ , sensitive as all hell. Both hands splayed on his hips, held him in a framed sort of stillness, and he was honestly _surprised_ when Damian began to push into his body, when it was _gentle_. 

The fullness was almost overwhelming in those moments, the feeling of Damian's cock pressing him open leaving him gasping in its own right. The hands kept him firmly in place, even as Damian gave a few grinding thrusts, each one as slow and gentle as the first. His stance widened the smallest amount as he sank into it and Damian compensated, warm thighs pressing tight against him as he began a quick, short snap of his hips, cock spearing into him with each movement.

Tim gasped, his head falling forward, the tightness in his throat reminding of what he'd just been through, sending a tingle of pleasure straight to his cock. His breath hitched and Damian upped his force behind him, each thrust _jarring_ in intensity now. Sharp little jabs of his cock right up inside of Tim and Tim _wanted_. He couldn't have specified for what in that moment, but it was something more than this.

Damian was gone before Tim could register that he was moving. The bed springs protested as Damian dropped down onto it, sat back until his knees were pressed against it, and then he was tugging Tim's suit the rest of the way off, urging him down onto his lap. He guided him, helped him settle astride him, held his cock still as Tim dropped down on it, filled himself with it.

Pleasure sparked along his every nerve and Tim took hold of Damian's shoulders, immediately curling himself around him to start _moving_ , riding Damian's cock like they'd done this a hundred times before. The smoothness of the transition was something Tim hadn't expected, hadn't even thought to consider. He didn't feel like he'd lost anything in the change in position and normally when things like this happened during sex, he _did_.

Damian's bare hand glided down Tim's arm, shifted to his wrist and urged it onto Damian's throat. When he tipped his head back, Tim _knew_ what he wanted, and he _took_ it in an instant. His fingers clamped down hard and the rumble of Damian's moan vibrated against his palm. He found the artery, _dug_ his fingers in against it as he pushed as hard as he dared against his windpipe.

Damian's face washed into an absolute sort of pleasure that made Tim wonder if this was how he looked with Damian's fist around his throat, and he knew _exactly_ what he wanted in that moment. He grasped Damian's gauntleted arm, dragged it up until the harsh press of his gloved fingers were against his own throat again. He took care in the positioning, helped him find the artery without making him _think_ about it, and settled his hand on Damian's wrist just the same as Damian's was on his own. 

Together, their fingers clenched, their palms pressed, and Tim wrenched free a choked-off cry as he drove himself down hard on Damian's cock. In an instant it went from calm to _wild_ , from pleasure to a bid for who could cum first. Tim _shook_ as he rode the thick length that pressed up inside him. He barely breathed. He barely _thought_... and that alone was what he'd been reaching for, knew it was what Damian was searching for just as much.

Dick had once referenced it a thousand ring circus that had to be narrowed down to a precious few; a million thoughts brought down to only the most base of necessities. 

Tim trembled, clutched harder at Damian's neck, felt the _pressure_ against his wrist, knew his own was tightening equally on Damian's, and _God_ , he could find nothing he'd ever enjoyed more than this anywhere in his present thoughts. His thighs clenched and his every movement became a struggle against muscles that wanted to seize up in preparation for orgasm and a body that wanted... _wanted_ everything. He drove himself all the way down on Damian's length, felt the rumble of a choked off cry in Damian's throat, and then, blessedly, he could feel him twitching inside of him.

Forcing his eyes to focus, he watched the wash of pleasure over Damian's features, watched the way he damn near faded from consciousness before the quick double-tap came on his wrist, and he released half-way, the same as Damian had done for him. He gave the same tap, felt the very same give, and he gave a final grind before settling, just catching his breath as he watched Damian come down.

Their eyes met and Damian's hand slid up to cup his cheek. He let Damian guide him in, relished the swipe and glide of his tongue, _moaned_ as he was picked up and turned, laid out on the bed, Damian sliding from his body. Something dropped in the trashcan next to the bed and Tim managed to smile against the kiss. So diligent, so _prepared_ , he was proud of Damian as much as he was turned on by him.

Damian's teeth caught his lip, tugged and released, and then he was but a ghost of a touch as he moved down his body until... Tim bucked up into Damian's mouth, cried out in a way he was sure anyone else on the same floor _definitely_ heard at the hot slickness around his cock. Damian's tongue pressed and flicked against the underside of his length as he began to bob his head and Tim _whined_ , his head hitting the bed as his hips jerked up. He heard the slight _choke_ and he hissed from between clenched teeth, reaching up to tug his own hair as his hips rolled.

There was no protest, no attempt to get him to back off or stop trying to control this and Tim appreciated that. His thighs spread and his heels dug into the bed as he fucked up into Damian's mouth, hips completely lifting off the bed with his movements. 

Two bare hands slid up under his lower back, helped to support him, and Tim snarled out, "Fuck," before he could think to stop it. His head rolled back, hair dragging against the sheets, neck protesting the press against the mattress, but he ignored it. The arch was severe, his body shaking from it, but his cock deliciously hard because of it, and he could find no protest in that.

He shook hard, body straining for what he needed... _wanted_ , and Tim let out a sharp cry of, " _Damian_ ," as he vaulted over the edge and plunged down into the abyss of his orgasm. Heat washed through him, a chill right behind it, and he shoved up _hard_ into Damian's throat, _purposely_ forced him to take his cum right down his throat. 

As the shockwaves eased off, Tim collapsed back down against the bed and Damian's hand, felt him easing him down, sucking very lightly at him as he pulled up and off of him. There was one more lick to his tip, a single swipe of the last little rush of cum, and then only hot quick breaths again his damp flesh. It was only then that he felt the undeniable movements of what Damian was doing to himself, only then that he felt the tightness of Damian's body so close to him, all wound up and in _need_.

"Let me." His voice came out as a raspy version of what it had been and he would have laughed if it'd been appropriate. 

Damian's hand came to rest on his chest, a little snarl freeing itself as he leaned over him, jacking himself rather frantically. "Shut up."

Tim let himself grin, let his head fall back as he panted for his breath. Rolling his hips up, he felt the faint brush of Damian's cock against him, the quick movement of his fist as he pumped himself, and then the first splash of release as it splattered down over his hip.

Damian's groan was _beautiful_ , the release of it clearly more than just physical. Then Damian was _there_ , cock thrusting over his hip, Damian's hands casing him in on either side as he rode out his orgasm right against Tim, _using_ him for his pleasure, and it was _glorious_.

Tim watched the thrust and press of Damian's cock, watched the swell of cum from his tip as he dragged it along Tim's flesh, and he shivered, breathing out a soft, "God, _Damian_."

Damian hunched over him, his head bowed as he wrenched in breath after breath, utterly still besides that. " _Drake_."

Tim wet his lips, freed a little huff of air and a pleased little sound right behind it. "Sex hasn't been this good since... well... _ever_."

Damian's hands caught his own, moved him and urged Tim to move with him until they were facing one another, legs tangled, and nearly chest-to-chest on their sides. Damian's hand glided up his arm, fingertips dancing over his neck, and then cupping his cheek and instant before the sweetest of kisses pressed against his lips.

Tim returned it was all he had, humming softly into it as Damian's fingers lightly stroked at his cheek, over his jaw, and then returned to simply _hold_. There was a faint nip and then Damian's breath against his mouth as he spoke. "I've thought of doing that many times, _Tim_." The shift was intentional, the use of his name spoken in a way that told him volumes of _respect_ and reverence. 

Tim let their lips touch again, the barest of presses as he smiled against them. "I'm glad you _did_."

Another tiny nip, a lick to soothe it, and then a pleased little sigh against his lips, and Tim honestly thought he had found _home_ for the first time in a very long time. 

They were silent for what should have felt like forever, but somehow managed not to. By the time they were moving, it was only because the chime that told them lunch was being served was echoing through the house. Tim paused at the door, had chosen to shrug on a borrowed outfit from Damian's drawers, a simple pair of yoga pants he was surprised Damian even owned, and a loose t-shirt he was fairly certain had once belonged to Dick a very long time ago. 

Damian tugged on a black turtleneck and for the first time, Tim was sort of pleased he had a tendency toward absurdly _old_ tastes in clothing. The steel gray slacks paired it off nicely and Tim didn't stop himself from smiling when Damian reached up and shifted his hair into some semblance of order before joining him at the door. They shared the most fleeting of kisses, the nip at the end leaving a smile on Tim's face, and he opened the door, feeling like a man about to face the world with a whole new respect for it, and _that_ was something he'd been needing for a good long time.


End file.
